Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 121 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

epilogue

On April 10th, Jack and Natasha announced the birth of their second son, Steven Thomas.

Drug lord Rafael Aguilar Guajardo was assassinated by his under-boss, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, two years after the author worked on assignment in Ciudad Juarez.

Amado Carrillo Fuentes then died under mysterious circumstances while undergoing plastic surgery four years after taking power. His brother, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, took over as head of the cartel.

Three years after the author met with Jose Refugio Rubalcava in a back alley in Ciudad Juarez, U.S authorities checked an abandoned car parked on the Bridge of the Americas. In the trunk they discovered the bodies of Rubalcava and his two sons. The cartel left the bodies on the bridge as a sign they believed Rubalcava had been talking to the Americans too much.

Vicente Carrillo Fuentes has been charged with the murders, but despite a $5-million reward posted for his capture by the FBI and a $2-million award posted by the Mexican authorities, he remains a free man.

At the time of this book’s printing, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes continues to remain in charge of one of two major cartels locked in a vicious battle for control of the drug market in the region.

Within the last couple of years, the murder toll in Ciudad Juarez alone has surpassed six thousand. With the increasing appetite of Canadian and American cocaine users, financial support for the cartels is growing … as is the ever-increasing greed of the cartels.

The continued acts of violence and murder involving innocent citizens are also expanding geographically. Recently in the United States, it was discovered Mexican cartels have been paying teenagers on retainer to commit murders, including the assassination of U.S. law enforcement officers.

The cartels are currently viewing Canada like a beach hawker views a new tourist.

Anyone interested in further information concerning the murders of the Rubalcava family, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, or the impact the cartels are having on Canada, can find it at the following websites:

Amarillo Globe News: http://amarillo.com/stories/2000/ 09/15/tex_cartel.shtml

Corpus Christi Caller-Times: http://www.caller2.com/ 2000/september/15/today/texas_me/4249.html

Denver Post: http://blogs.denverpost.com/captured/2011 /12/21/in-focus-mexico-drug-war-five-years-later/5151/

Toronto Star: www.thestar.com/article/642966

Wikipedia: http://wapedia.mobi/en/Vicente_Carrillo_Fuentes

Chapter One

Paul Jennings stood in the lobby of the Redbury Hotel, located at the corner of Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles. It was eight o’clock at night and his office was hosting a Christmas party in a banquet room of the hotel.

The party was well underway, attended by a crowd of about fifty people. Most were enjoying themselves, but not all. Two of the people invited were there to work. They were both professional killers … hired to do what they do best.

Jennings grinned and adjusted the Santa cap on his head when Tom Donald entered the lobby. As Tom walked past the Christmas tree in the lobby their eyes met.

Tom did more than grin back. “What the hell?” he laughed, pointing a finger at Jennings, before giving him a hearty handshake that quickly turned into a hug.

“Maybe it does look a little silly,” said Jennings, adjusting the cap again as he stepped back.

“It’s not the cap I’m laughing at.” Tom chuckled. “I figure you’re probably wearing it so I won’t know you’re bald.” Tom gestured at Jennings with a wave of his hand and shook his head. “It’s seeing you in a suit and tie that looks so funny. I never thought I would see the day.”

“Yeah, I know. Guess I do look a little establishment.” Jennings smiled and patted his cap. “And yes, I am going a little bald, but not as bad as you.”

“Tell me about it,” said Tom.

“Man, it’s great to see you again,” Jennings said warmly. “I couldn’t believe it when you called last night. It was right out of the blue.”

“I was sitting in my hotel room and got to thinking about the old days. I wondered whether you were back to this neck of the woods. I checked the directory and there were only two Paul Jennings. You were the first one I tried.”

“I’m sure glad you did.” Both men exchanged smiles and Jennings said, “Come on, no use standing here. Let’s join the party. We can do our catching up there.”

“You sure they don’t mind me crashing the party? I didn’t know I was supposed to wear a suit and tie, let alone an elf’s hat.”

“Don’t worry about it. You look fine. I spoke to my boss and he said you’re more than welcome.”

“Tell him I appreciate it.”

“And I might be short, but I’m not an elf. It’s a Santa hat.”

“Is that what they told you?”

Moments later, Tom found himself in a room where people mingled while clutching drinks in one hand and balancing finger food on small plates in the other. By the noise level, he suspected many of them had started the festivities much earlier. A few of the partygoers had ties hanging out of their suit pockets. It looked like they were on leashes.

Jennings bustled through the crowd and soon returned with a Budweiser for Tom and a glass of white wine for himself.

“So what are you doing now?” asked Tom. “This crowd doesn’t strike me as being Greenpeace and they sure don’t look like musicians.”

Jennings grinned and said, “I was hired two months ago. You’re looking at the new CEO of Pacific Ethical Fund Consulting Services.”

“You’re kidding? What do you do with them?”

“I check out opportunities around the world for investment companies. For people who have a conscience about where they put their money.”

“What do you mean? What kind of conscience?”

“To make sure the companies they are thinking of investing with aren’t running child sweatshops or making weapons. Next week I’m off to Panama to check on a fruit company.”

Tom nodded as he rubbed his chin. “Sounds good, what you are doing. I didn’t know Wall Street cared about such things.”

“A lot of people do. The Internet has really helped educate people about what goes on around the world. It’s nice to live off your investments and enjoy your champagne and caviar, but not so nice if you know children are being killed because your money is building cluster bombs.”

“Good point.” Tom took a sip of beer as he studied his friend. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you would be involved in something like this. Last I heard about you was that you were marching down some street in Washington protesting the war in Iraq.”

Jennings looked sombre for a moment and said, “Yeah, shock and awe. What a bunch of crap that was. We should never have gone there. You Canadians were right to stay out of that mess.”

“I think so.” Tom gazed around the room and saw two men give a couple of furtive glances in his direction. He presumed it was because of how he was dressed and it made him feel self-conscious. The old sports jacket he was wearing was way out of date. Even when it was new, he would never have fit in with these people, who wore suits custom made by names like Hugo Boss, Gucci, and Prada.

Tom looked down at his well-worn shoes and subconsciously fidgeted with the keys in his pocket.

“You okay?” asked Jennings.

“I’m fine.” Tom took a sip of beer and glanced at Jennings and thought, He doesn’t belong here, either …

Tom’s glance didn’t go unnoticed. Jennings smiled and said, “Bet you never thought I would be hanging out with this kind of crowd, did ya?”

Tom grinned and said, “You read me like a book. That is exactly what I was thinking. These don’t seem like your type of people.”

“Yeah … guess I’ve changed,” admitted Jennings.

“Since when?”

“Since when we first met. Back in the old days at music college.”

Tom shook his head in disbelief. “We were just kids, but sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“We were all living in that huge dorm down on La Brea.”

“How could I forget?” Tom nodded, smiling. “Right between Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards.”

“Figured it could never get better than that. Trying to live our dreams of becoming musicians,” added Jennings, wistfully.

“I have stayed in the music business,” said Tom. “I’m running a music studio in Vancouver. But what happened to you? Last time I saw you, you had picked up some hippie chick and were driving a beat-up VW van. Back then you were spending your time singing at protest marches.”

“That was more than a few years ago,” replied Jennings, shaking his head in wonder.

“At least you were following your dream of singing.”

Jennings smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder. “It so happens, I married that hippie chick. Her name is Anna and we have two kids. Fourteen-year-old Buddy and nine-year-old Peggy Sue.”

“Buddy and Peggy Sue!” Tom chuckled. “You always were a Buddy Holly fan. I think Peggy Sue was his top song. Guess it’s better than naming your kids Moon Beam or Star Dust or something.”

“Come on, I wasn’t ever that stoned.”

Tom glanced around the room. “Looking at this crowd, I expect you’re driving a BMW or a Lexus?”

“Naw. I traded in the van. Now I have a Toyota and a Ford pickup. Also own four acres of land north of the city. Even has orange trees.”

“White picket fence?”

Jennings smiled. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” He stared at Tom for a moment and added, “Sure wish you could come and stay with us for a few days.”

“Maybe next time. My flight back to Vancouver is already booked. Next summer I’ll be down again. I’ll take you up on your offer then.”

“I’ll hold you to that, amigo. So enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Where did life take you? I see you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“After touring with some bands for a few years, I ended up back in Vancouver running a music studio. My wife’s name is Diane and she is from Medicine Hat, Alberta. We have two sons, Tim and Tod, and a daughter, Jadine. Life is treating me good.”

“That’s great.” Jennings raised his glass of wine in a toast. “Me, too.”

Tom clinked his beer bottle on the glass and smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, although I still can’t believe you’re wearing a suit, let alone working for the establishment.”

“Well … hang on, that’s my boss across the room … Oskar Cruickshank. Looks like he’s headed our way.”

Tom glanced at the man approaching. Oskar was dressed like an executive who had been featured by Forbes magazine, complete with silk tie and gold cufflinks. His short black hair had only a trace of grey above his ears and Tom guessed him to be about forty years old.

“Oskar’s a good guy,” said Jennings. “He saw a lot more in me than some hippie strumming a guitar. He understood my passion to make this planet a better place.”

Tom saw two men following Oskar. “Who are the guys tagging along with him?”

“The heavy-set guy directly behind him is Ben Pike. He’s an ex-Marine and hired occasionally on contract for corporate security. I don’t know who the other guy is.”

Ben Pike was in his mid-thirties and had a muscular physique. He walked with the backs of his hands facing forward, reminding Tom of how a gorilla would walk. His red hair bristled in a brush-cut and he wore a cheap suit that should have made Tom feel better. Somehow it didn’t.

The third man, they would soon learn, was Oskar’s brother, Virgil. One glance told Tom that Virgil didn’t belong with this crowd, either. Virgil was ten years younger than his brother and had a shaved head and a one-carat diamond stud in his ear. He wore an open silk shirt to expose a heavy gold necklace. Tom didn’t have to be in the music business to know Virgil was into the drug scene.

Jennings introduced Oskar to Tom and Oskar gave a warm and friendly handshake, before introducing his brother Virgil and then Pike.

“Tom is one of your fellow Canucks,” said Jennings, as he glanced at Oskar.

“No kidding?” replied Oskar. He turned and smiled at Tom, then asked, “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Vancouver,” replied Tom. “I run a music studio there.”

“Good,” replied Oskar. “Vancouver is Virgil’s turf, but I hang my hat in Victoria when I go back.”

“I appreciate you letting me crash your party,” added Tom.

“Not a problem. My brother is crashing the party, too. Isn’t that right, Virgil?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you do in Vancouver?” asked Tom, giving Virgil a friendly smile.

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I’m an entrepreneur,” replied Virgil coldly, before turning his back to stare at a young woman across the room.

Tom felt the uncomfortable silence so he smiled and turned to Pike. “I hear you are an ex-Marine.”

“Yeah,” replied Pike, “while I was busy risking my life and losing friends in Iraq, your friend here was protesting and prancing around singing songs.” He scowled at Jennings and added, “Patriotic you’re not, isn’t that right?”

“I would not hesitate to fight to defend my own country,” said Jennings evenly, “but not to invade to make an oil grab in someone else’s country.”

“Oil? Bullshit! We invaded because of what those bastards did to us at 9/11! How come you weren’t protesting that?”

“Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. You need to take a look at Saudi —”

“Gentlemen,” said Oskar sternly. “No more of that talk. It’s Christmas. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Pike took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Christmas is a tough time of year for me. I know too many who won’t ever be coming home to be with their wives and kids.”

“I understand,” replied Jennings, quietly.

“Apology accepted?” asked Pike, sticking out his hand.

Jennings shook his hand and said, “No problem. It’s what makes America great. Everyone is entitled to an opinion.”

“I understand you’re taking tomorrow off work,” said Oskar, looking at Jennings. “You taking your friend out on the town?”

“No, Tom has to get back to Vancouver. Tomorrow morning I’m hanging Christmas lights on the house while Anna takes the kids shopping. Then in the afternoon we’re going out to pick a Christmas tree.”

“Sounds nice,” replied Oskar. “Christmas should be the time for families.”

“It’s kind of a tradition with us,” said Jennings. “In the evening we decorate the tree and then sit in front of the fireplace singing carols and drinking eggnog. I’d invite you, but our singing is pretty awful.”

“That’s okay.” Oskar smiled. “My new girlfriend has invited me over for dinner. It will be interesting to see if she can cook.” He looked around at the crowd, then smiled apologetically and said, “Guess I should continue making the rounds. Have a merry Christmas.”

Once they were out of earshot, Tom asked, “You like Oskar?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “Something doesn’t feel right. I wouldn’t trust them.”

“Them? You mean, Virgil. Yeah, don’t worry. He doesn’t have anything to do with the company. He’s only visiting Oskar.”

“Not only him,” replied Tom. “Oskar, too. Why would he be hanging out with a goon like Pike?”

“I told you, Pike is corporate security.”

“I doubt Oskar is in need of security tonight. Some of these people might get drunk, but they don’t look like the type to take a swing at anybody.”

“I don’t understand. What are you getting at?” asked Jennings.

Tom eyed Oskar across the room as he smiled and patted someone on the back. “I don’t know … your boss seems too smooth. Not your league.”

“Not my league? Tom, I’m not some kid trying to make a living strumming a guitar. I’ve grown up.”

“I know.”

“So what is it? Don’t tell me you’re jealous I’m in the big bucks? You know I never cared about that.”

“It’s not the money,” replied Tom, feeling hurt that Jennings would think that. “I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe I’m just being cynical, thinking of that old story.”

“What old story?” asked Jennings.

“Where some environmentalist becomes such a pain in the ass, the oil companies hire them and give them a big salary to shut them up.”

“When have you ever known me to shut up?” said Jennings, grinning.

“Good point.” Tom smiled before becoming sombre again. “Still, I never pictured you as being welcomed by establishment, let alone accepting the offer.”

“It’s a chance to do some good for the planet and humanity both. I’ve got two kids. I want them to grow up in a safer and better world.”

“Don’t we all,” replied Tom, as his attention was diverted across the room. “And who is that fellow?” he asked, with a nod toward another man who was talking to Pike. “He looks pretty nasty, as well.”

“I think he’s supposed to look nasty,” said Jennings thoughtfully. “He’s Pike’s partner in corporate security. Goes by the nickname of Rabbit. Both of them are only hired on short term contracts to provide security on occasion.”

“Rabbit? You gotta be kidding. Sounds like a cartoon character.”

“Anything but,” said Jennings seriously. “He’s an ex-Marine as well.”

“Yeah? Why do they call him Rabbit?”

“You tell me,” smiled Jennings. “Take a look.”

Tom looked at Rabbit, who was walking over to the bar. As he walked, he tended to bounce off the toes of each foot, causing his head to bob slightly higher than normal. It gave the impression he was hopping. “Got it.” Tom snickered.

“Figured you would. You always were perceptive.”

“So tell me, why would a company like yours need to hire them? Seems to me, everyone should be happy with what you are doing.”

“Some of the places we go are a little dangerous. Third-world countries … slums. Places where if you’re white, it is automatically presumed you are rich. Actually, by the standards in those countries, we really are … which makes us prime targets for muggers or even kidnappers.”

“So those two goons are suppose to protect you?” asked Tom.

“They can handle themselves. Both of them have all sorts of black belts and used to instruct some sort of martial-arts program when they were with the Marines. Either one could snap your neck like a pretzel.”

“That’s comforting,” said Tom sarcastically. “Pike the Spike and Killer Rabbit.”

Jennings chuckled. “Those would be good nicknames for those two.”

Unfortunately, Jennings was about to find out how accurate the description was.

Chapter Two

It was ten o’clock the following morning when Tom strolled down Wilcox Avenue. On one side of the street were a row of bail bonds shops, while on the other side a row of police cruisers led up to the entrance to the Los Angeles Police Department.

Years earlier, Tom had known a few friends who were detectives working out of the building. Back then, he wasn’t adverse to passing on information about some of the real bad guys who were trying to get their talons into the music industry.

A phone call earlier told him one friend still remained. Brent Morgan had since been promoted from detective to captain and was happy to meet with his old acquaintance.

Morgan met Tom at the front counter and after the initial greeting, Morgan suggested he drive Tom someplace for coffee.

“Really good to see you again, Morgy,” said Tom, as he settled into the front seat of an unmarked police car.

“You too, Tom. It’s been a long time. Hearing your voice this morning really brought back some memories of the old days.” He glanced at Tom sideways and said, “Thought I would take you to the northwest corner of La Brea and Sunset.”

Tom reflected a moment, then smiled. “Tiny Naylor’s Drive-in. Where I used to meet you and the boys to pass on a little intel once in a while.”

“Glad to see your memory is still sharp. I sure miss those days when there was still some real glamour around here.”

“It has really changed,” replied Tom. “I hardly recognize it anymore.”

“You got that right. Remember how much you hated drug dealers and told me the dope situation would become more nasty and lethal as time went on?”

“I remember.”

“Well, you were right.” Morgan stopped at a traffic light and took the opportunity to eyeball Tom. “So tell me, I have the feeling this is more than a social visit. What’s up?”

“Well, maybe nothing. I’m worried about an old friend. Nobody you know.”

Tom then told Morgan about his friend, Paul Jennings, working for Oskar Cruickshank and expressed his concern that something didn’t seem right. He also told him about Virgil Cruickshank and Ben Pike. “After all these years, I hate to be coming to you right off the bat looking for a favour, but I was wondering if there was some way you could check these guys out?”

“You’ve done us a ton of favours in the past, glad I can finally do you one,” replied Morgan, reaching for his cellphone.

Before coffee was over, Tom had the information.

“You’re right about Virgil,” said Morgan. “He is a scumbag. Narcotics has info he is running meth down from Canada. Apparently low-level. They haven’t had time to work on him.”

“What about Oskar and Pike?”

“Nothing on Pike. Commercial Crimes Division made a few phone calls for us and from what they were told, Oskar is a straight shooter who is trying to keep the rich folks from investing in things that might upset their conscience.”

“Sounds like I was wrong to be suspicious about Oskar.”

Morgan took a sip of coffee and looked thoughtful before saying, “I think you’re losing your touch, Tom. Don’t ya know rich people don’t have a conscience?”

Tom knew Morgan was joking and both men grinned at each other.

“And as far as Virgil goes, he is just visiting,” added Morgan. “Seems to me like your worries are for naught.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” replied Tom, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Morgy.”

Paul Jennings stood in his garage and waved goodbye to Buddy and Peggy Sue as Anna backed the car out of the driveway. Moments later, he placed his ladder up to the eaves and hauled out a box of Christmas lights.

He had barely started hanging the lights when Pike and Rabbit drove up. He gave them a wave and climbed down the ladder to greet them. “Merry Christmas! You guys have a good time last night?”

“It was nice,” replied Rabbit.

“What’s up?” asked Jennings. “I didn’t even know you knew where I lived.”

Pike smiled. “Oskar sent us to tell you that you are a tremendous asset to the corporation and we have something for you.”

“You’re not carrying a fruitcake, so tell me,” said Jennings, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, “are you guys handing out Christmas bonuses?”

“Not exactly,” said Rabbit, before turning and smiling at Pike.

Jennings automatically diverted his attention and also smiled expectantly at Pike for an answer. The small distraction was what Rabbit had planned.

Jennings belched air from his lungs and doubled over when Rabbit’s fist drilled deep into his solar plexus. Rabbit was about to use the heel of his hand to ram Jennings chin upwards, while simultaneously delivering a blow with his other hand to the base of Jennings’s neck, but Pike shoved him out of the way.

“Don’t break his neck,” said Pike. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, stepping behind Jennings and placing a chokehold on the carotid artery in his neck that left him only semiconscious.

“What gives?” asked Rabbit. “I thought we wanted to make it look like he fell off his ladder?”

“Too quick for this bastard. Take the ladder down and smash it through his front window while I hold him.”

Rabbit did as requested and stepped back.

Pike nodded to the shards of broken glass sticking up from the bottom of the windowsill. “Got the picture?”

Rabbit snickered. “Yeah, I got it. Messier, but I got it.”

Jennings coughed and sputtered when the chokehold was released, but had no time to protest, before Pike and Rabbit grabbed him by the arms and the back of his head and rammed his throat across a shard of broken glass.

Jennings flailed with his arms in a failed attempt to stop the attack, but all he did was cut his hands. When he was released, his bloody fingers clawed on the carpeting in a panicked attempt to pull himself inside the house to escape his attackers.

Pike and Rabbit knew Jennings’s severed jugular was fatal and simply stood back and watched. Seconds later, Jennings’s body collapsed across the window frame, leaving only his legs sticking outside.